


The Right Kind of Family

by giantteenwolforgy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 doesn't exist, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Don't End in Blood, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post ep 15x19, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giantteenwolforgy/pseuds/giantteenwolforgy
Summary: Castiel likes to think that he knows Dean Winchester better than anyone else.But Cas has never seenthisside of him.All morning he's been marching around the kitchen like someone half-crazed--eyes wild and a smear of flour on his temple. He's been feverishly whipping mashed potatoes and barking things like "Sam,dicethe celery.Dice it.How many times do I have to say it?"Thanksgiving at the Bunker.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 411





	The Right Kind of Family

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I'm back from the dead to post a random SPN fic because the best way I know how to deal with my feelings is to write. Also back on tumblr as [alwaysagaything!](https://alwaysagaything.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving!

Castiel likes to think that he knows Dean Winchester better than anyone else.

He knows the soft, secretive smiles that Dean saves just for him. He knows the brutally honest, cracked open prayers that Dean choked out in purgatory. And the just as honest late-night conversations. The ones where Dean always used to ask (sounding heartbreakingly young): _You’re not gonna tell anyone this, right Cas?_

And now, Cas knows him even better. He didn’t think it was possible. He’s only been back from the empty for a few weeks, but now he knows the way Dean’s voice sounds like honey when it murmurs sweet things in his ear. He knows the awkward, pleased tilt of his mouth when Cas says something that makes him blush. The way Dean hid his face and groaned like he was dying while Cas clumsily jerked him off last night.

But Cas has never seen _this_ side of Dean Winchester.

All morning he’s been marching around the kitchen like someone half-crazed—eyes wild and a smear of flour on his temple. He’s been feverishly whipping mashed potatoes and barking things like “Sam, _dice_ the celery. _Dice it_. How many times do I have to say it?”

Jack showed up and was immediately put on dish duty. Sam had looked mortally offended on Jack’s behalf, but Jack didn’t seem to mind.

Cas has taken refuge in the storage closet. It’s far enough removed from the kitchen and a random enough place that it will probably take Dean awhile to find him here. He hopes.

The thought has barely crossed his mind before the door opens. Cas winces, but it isn’t Dean in the doorway. _Sam_ is the one who slips inside and shuts the door firmly behind him. He’s halfway through a relieved sigh when he looks around and sees Cas standing next to the filing cabinet.

He freezes. They stare at each other guiltily for a moment.

“Sam, this hiding spot is taken,” Cas finally says.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Sam complains. “I need a break too!”

Cas glares at him. “Don’t pretend like your job was as bad as mine.”

Cas had been stuck at the stove, stirring each pot periodically to make sure nothing boiled over. It was mind-numbing. Cranberry sauce. Gravy. Caramel sauce. Green beans. Cranberry sauce. Gravy. Caramel sauce. Green beans. Cranberry sauce—

Sam snorts and his shoulders relax some. “Yeah. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did.”

“It was worse than Purgatory,” he complains. It shocks another laugh out of Sam.

“Ugh,” he sighs. “This is your fault, you know.”

“ _My_ fault?”

“Come on, Cas. Your first Thanksgiving as a human? As Dean’s _boyfriend_? You had to know he’d go a little crazy trying to make it perfect for you.”

Cas studies Sam and tries to make sense of his words. Why would Dean think that torturing him with cooking would be a perfect day? And more importantly: “Am I Dean’s boyfriend?”

Sam rears back, eyes getting all squinty and confused. “Huh? _I_ don’t know. Aren’t you?”

Cas shrugs awkwardly. They haven’t really put a label on it yet. Dean is just _Dean,_ but now Cas gets to kiss him.

“I mean…” Sam is looking deeply disturbed now. “You are _together_ , right? Like me and Eileen?”

“Yes,” Cas tells him. “Well. Not _exactly_ like you and Eileen. We haven’t had sex yet—”

Sam throws his hands up over his ears. “Oh my _God_ , I don’t need to know this!”

Suddenly he’s pushed forward several feet as the door is shouldered open behind him. Dean is standing in the hallway, looking back and forth between Cas and Sam like he’s been betrayed. “Well,” he says, and that’s his fake-happy smile, Cas would know it from a mile away. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“Yeah…” Sam says. “I’m gonna go help Jack. Good luck, Cas.”

“Sam, _wait_ —” Cas hisses, grabbing for Sam’s arm fruitlessly. Sam dodges his hand and slips past Dean. _Traitor_.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean asks, crossing his arms and barely even looking at Sam as he bails. “The cranberry sauce almost burned because you ditched me.”

“I didn’t ditch _you_ , Dean,” Cas sighs. “And I don’t care about cranberry sauce.”

If he thought that would make things better, he was sorely mistaken. Dean’s face flinches like he’s been slapped. He looks away from Cas, and when he looks back his face is arranged in a blank expression that makes Cas’ stomach sink.

“My mistake.”

“Dean—"

“I should get back. Eileen’s almost here and the food isn’t gonna make itself.”

“ _Dean_ —” Cas says, sharper. He comes forward and grips Dean’s shoulder with his hands. He takes it as a good sign that Dean lets him. “That’s not what I meant. Just, listen. If you’re doing this for me, you don’t have to. I would be just as happy with turkey sandwiches and store-bought pie.”

“But _I_ wouldn’t,” Dean says. He seems confused that he even has to tell Cas this, and Cas feels another puzzle piece of Dean Winchester click into place.

“Of course,” he says, wonderingly. _Of course_ , Dean isn’t doing this for Cas. If he was, Cas would’ve been having significantly more fun. For once, Dean is trying to do something for himself. “I’m sorry, Dean. I thought. I… It seems I was being selfish. Sam and I both were.”

“It’s fine,” Dean grumbles. It makes him look adorably put out. “It’s not a big deal. I could probably stand to relax a little bit. It’s just. For the first time, I have hope, you know? I have you. Sam and Eileen are here. Chuck is gone. Jack is alive and doing good things. I just wanted one day. One day where we have everyone together, so if things go sideways in the future I can look back and remember how nice it was. But. Turns out Thanksgiving meals are kind of hard to pull off alone. Sorry.”

Cas stares at Dean, his heart aching. “Don’t be sorry. You are the most _wonderful_ man—”

“Hold on, don’t start this right now,” Dean complains, his cheeks immediately flushing darker.

Cas straightens up and grabs Dean’s wrist with his hand. “Come with me.”

“Cas—what—” Dean stumbles along behind him. “Cas, what are you doing?”

“I’m being a good boyfriend.”

“ _What_ \--wait, you’re my _boyfriend_?”

Cas ignores him. He drags Dean to the kitchen and takes a look around, trying to map out a strategy for the next few hours. The sink is empty and Jack and Sam are leaning against the counter in the midst of half made side dishes. Cas spots a stack of recipe cards that Dean has been waving around all morning and he flips through them quickly, frowning.

“Hey,” Sam says warily. “You guys good?”

“Great,” Cas says briskly. “But we have a lot of work to do.”

Sam stares at him in horror. “What?”

“Dean needs our help to make this dinner. He can’t do everything alone. We still need fruit salad. And the stuffing and rolls need to be cooked. And we need an apple pie.” The bang of the front door closing echoes into the kitchen. “Oh good, Eileen is here. She can chop up the fruit. Sam, if you’ve done the celery for the stuffing, you can dice up the onions next.”

“What can I do?” Jack asks excitedly. Cas smiles at him. “You can mix up the apple pie filling. I think Dean’s already done the crust.”

“Cas, I can help,” Dean tries.

“You,” Cas says severely, “will do no such thing. You’ve done enough today. You are going to sit here and drink a beer and enjoy being with your family.”

Dean stares at him with a terribly fond expression. “And what about you?”

Cas leans in and presses a lingering kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I’m going to make sure none of the pots on the stove boil over. I’ve heard it’s a very important job.”

Dean sighs happily and ducks his head. “Thanks, Cas,” he murmurs, so quiet that Cas barely hears it.

A shiver worms it’s way through Cas’ stomach. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”

“I brought wine!” Eileen announces from the doorway. “Mmm. Smells good. Can I help?”

“Yes,” Cas says. “You can. We need a fruit salad.”

“Got it—"

“Jack, wait!” Cas hears Dean yell from behind him. “Don’t just dump everything in the pie crust, you need to mix it _first_ —”

“Sam,” Cas says, frowning. “The recipe says to _dice_ the onions. _Dice_ them.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam groans. “You’re just as bad as Dean!”

“Where are the knives?” Eileen asks.

“Oh, I washed them all earlier,” Jack calls over to her. He points to the drying rack.

Cas takes his place at the stove and catches Dean’s eye from across the room, his heart full. This, here, all of them together and talking over one another and bickering—this is _right_. It’s not perfect (Cas doubts their family will ever be perfect). But it’s right.

_Love you_ , Dean mouths at him.

There’s a soft smile just for Cas on his face.


End file.
